Well, That's Surprising
by The Blasphemous Contessa
Summary: Originally a one-shot takes-itself-too-seriously Reid, Jr. whump parody. Has since morphed into an actual story with plot and characters.


**Ok. This story is NOT meant to be taken seriously. It's really a response to the recent trend in Reid-fics. It was supposed to be a one-shot whump with a Reid, Jr. but it got a little out of hand. Thanks to Sydney (Sydflower) for beta-ing even though she really didn't want to. Y'all should all go and read her story The Cullens Find the Lexicon, it's really good. And also thanks to Naureen (Pres. Narnia Clearwater-Reid) for reading through again before I posted. She's got some really funny short crack!fics if anyone's interested.**

**I disclaim ownership of Criminal Minds. I would however like to own a certain doctor *wink wink***

**Now on with the madness!**

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_"There is no such thing as 'accident', it is fate misnamed"  
_Napoleon Bonaparte

It all started with a phone call.

No, actually it started with a study-date.

Further back.

It started with a part time job as a teacher's assistant in a high school physics class.

However it started this is where it ended. A deserted play ground in D.C. with a hysterical ten-year-old girl. Well no, it's not over yet. There's_ at least _eight years left in this crazy, terrifying game. But the hard part's over. Right? No. The hard part hasn't even started yet. Talk about scary thoughts.

11 YEARS EARLIER

"Come on, Spencer." the whining girl was pretty. Not super model gorgeous, but too pretty to actually want to spend time with him. "Just one movie. My head is likely to explode from all of the random facts you've been shoving into it."

"Julia," he wanted to sound exasperated, but really he was a little awestruck. Who wore a mini-skirt to a tutoring session? "Your parents are paying me to help you pass, not watch movies with you. Besides, you're almost done."

"If I'm almost done I deserve a break." She pushed her chair back from the large dining room table and stretched. Spencer blinked. He'd already earned a Ph D. and a B.A. but he was still your average almost-seventeen-year-old male when confronted with the female form. And Julia's form was far above average. She winked at him and turned down the hall to the under-used family room. "Lion King or Mulan?" She asked.

"Spring theory," Spencer replied, trying to sound firm but only managing a slight stutter. "And maybe we should go over Avogadro's number again. It'll be on the test next week."

"Don't you think of anything but science?" the brunette asked, tossing her dark curls over one shoulder as she bent to put the tape in the VCR. Her skirt was really quite short.

"Yes. Like for instance, there is a 67% chance that the moment we sit down to a movie one of your parents will decide to check on us."

"Stacie's at the gym for another hour and Micheal's out of town for the weekend. And today is Consuela's day off." she patted the love seat cushion beside her. "You're safe."

"The ethics of this situ-" he began to argue but was cut off

"I wont tell anyone you gave me a little movie break so it's not like you'll get fired or anything." She picked up the remote, trusting her tutor would sit beside her then paused, "Do you want popcorn or something?"

"I _want _you to come back to the table and study." he replied unconvincingly.

"And I want a tattoo of the Rolling Stones symbol." she countered condescendingly. "Some times the Universe has other ideas."

Spencer paused for a moment. Julia's average had moved up by a full letter grade since he had started tutoring her, and it wasn't like he would do anything untoward. Maybe she deserved a break? Maybe they both did.

It might be fun to pretend to be normal for an hour or so.

"Lion King." he told her then sat on the couch.

"You don't have to sit so far away. It's not like I have cooties." she rolled her eyes at him, "besides, the view's better from over here." Accepting Julia's logic, the young genius moved to sit beside the beautiful girl.

"Ok, but no biting," he attempted to tease.

"Not hungry," she shot back, smiling flirtatiously.

With the room illuminated only by the large glowing screen, Spencer was ever more aware of the girl beside him. She was beautiful. She used a jasmine scented shampoo, it reminded him of butterflies. Flowers copied butterflies hoping to attract the insects to carry their pollen to the next plant over. Shaping the petals like butterfly wings and even evolving to smell like other butterflies confused the tiny creatures into thinking they were mating and not germinating their food source.

Would Julia appreciate knowing that her hair smelled like horny butterflies? Probably not. But then again, girls were unpredictable.

"You know," he began, but thought better of mentioning the horny butterfly shampoo. "Never mind."

"What?" Julia asked, eyebrows arched as if she really wanted to know what he had to say.

Choosing a different subject, the awkward teen decided to discuss the movie instead. "The Lion King is actually a cartoon representation of Hamlet while also being a statement on integration at the same time." Hmm, Julia looked a little confused. Should he elaborate? "Scar is representative of Claudius, the throne stealing, father murdering uncle of Hamlet. Timon and Pumba would of course be Rosencrantz and Guildenstern," he resisted the urge to say "are dead" after the two minor characters' names. An inside joke and old habit from his short lived time spent as a Literature major. "Of course the ending is a bit happier."

"You think the weirdest thoughts sometimes," Julia told him, inching closer the corners of her lips pulled up in a seductive smile.

"I've been told," Spencer replied faintly. That was when she attacked him. Well the colloquial term was "jumped his bones" but it felt more like a mountain lion pouncing on a calf.

"Whoa!" he pushed her off and took a deep breath, ready to explain student/teacher ethics to the enthusiastic junior.

"Come on!" she whined. "I've been dying to do this for weeks. If you were any kind of fair you'd unzip your pants already."

PRESENT DAY

Dr. Spencer Reid, youngest member of the FBI BAU, glared at the phone as if It had murdered his mother. Or rather, as if it had woken him up at four in the morning after a particularly trying case in Wisconsin from which he had only returned home five hours ago. Which was considerably worse than killing Dianna Reid, at least in Spencer's current state of mind it was.

"Hello?" after groping around in the dark, Spencer had finally managed to find the damned phone.

"Are you Dr. Spencer Reid?"

"Who wants to know?" At least he thought that was what he'd said.

"I'm sorry?" the fuzzy voice on the other side asked. Apparently that wasn't what had come out.

"Yes. I am he." Now that his brain was finally awake, Spencer's mind was going into overdrive imagining all sorts of emergencies his parents or fellow profilers could be experiencing. "Is something the matter?"

"Well," the voice began hesitantly. Reid realized the speaker was female, and she sounded young.

"Is anyone hurt?" he demanded, wondering who the girl was and why she was calling.

"Actually, she's not hurting anymore," Reid stopped breathing. His mother. Had something happened with his mother? He had been in Wisconsin for almost a week. A long time to be incommunicado if something had happened with his mother. "She was my mom," the girl continued, unconscious of the terror she had struck into the heart of the young agent. "But she's happier now. Before she died she gave me a name and a phone number."

"Okay," Spencer prompted wondering where this was leading and if it could have waited until the morning.

"I'm Annette. My mother was Julia Ingram." For the second time in the last five minutes Reid's breathing stopped. Julia was a girl he knew from before. Before the BAU. Before he'd gotten used to the incredulity on the faces of police officers. Before murder became par of the every day. They hadn't been especially close, except for that one night, but learning of her death hurt the small hidden place that still cared for her. Julia was his first. The first of few, so that spot in his heart was large enough to break a little at the girl's news. "My name is Annette Reid."

PHOENIX, ARIZONA

"Hello?...Hello?" Annette looked down at the phone in her hand. She had been in the group home for almost a week now and had finally gotten up the courage to call her alleged father. Maybe he had fainted? Of course she would have gotten her courage at two in the morning. But she knew he worked a lot.

"Hello?" the tired voice on the other side finally asked. "Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here." Annette sighed in relief. It would really suck if he was found dead in his apartment clutching a phone. That so did not coincide with her plans. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," The man replied soothingly. It seemed like he was more worried about scaring her than absorbing information. Must come along with the job, she mused.

"I'm sorry to just throw it all at you like that. But I've been in foster care for a week and it sucks and I've always wanted to meet you but Mommy said you were busy and important and she didn't want to ruin your life and I'm just too chicken and I didn't know if you had a new family and I didn't want to be a burden and I'm so sorry." Annette sucked in a huge, deep, calming breath and waited for a reply. When none came she asked again, "Are you still there?" feeling foolish. She really should schedule her courage for the daylight hours.

"I'm just, soaking it all in." Reid told her, sounding dazed. "Wait, you're in foster care?" He asked, finally grasping at the real reason she had called. "What about your grandparents?"

"They died, a long time ago. And Mom didn't have any siblings and never married, and the state couldn't track you down. I told them you traveled a lot. Mom told me all about you."

"She didn't think it was important for me to know? Oh, never mind, that's too deep to get into over the phone," now the girl could hear rustling in the background as if someone were packing a bag. Now she could hear the jangling of keys and sound of a door being closed. "Can you give me an address or the phone number of someone in charge? I'm coming to get you."

That was exactly what she had hoped for. Annette fought the urge to squeal. He hadn't even said "what makes you so sure?" or demanded a paternity test. He was coming to get her. Her mother hadn't been lying when she talked about Dr. Spencer Reid's selflessness.

Annette slowly crept back up the stairs to find the scrapbook her mother had made for her not so long ago. It featured some pictures of a very young, nerdy looking man dressed like a college professor as well as newspaper clippings and internet articles. In the very back of the book was a Polaroid of her parents as teenagers bent over a textbook, probably taken by Consuela who was more a mother to Julia than Stacie ever bothered to be.

CONTINENTAL AIRLINES FLIGHT 6395 WASHINGTON, D.C. TO PHOENIX, ARIZONA

Dr. Spencer Reid, folded his hands tightly in his lap. He was very nervous. What if Annette wasn't his daughter after all? Would he adopt her anyway? What if she hated him? What if Social Services wouldn't let him take her? Rolling his eyes at his own foolishness the profiler pulled out his cell phone and called the second number on speed-dial.

"I hate you, this better be important." Penelope Garcia, muttered into her phone. She had been having a quite wonderful dream in which there was no such thing as serial killers.

"It is," Reid assured his co-worker. "I need you to run a search. Not right now. But when you get to work I need you to look up Julia Ingram and Annette Reid. Quietly, please?"

Normally the plump blond would have commented about her young friend's need for the search but there was an underlining pleading to his request. "Any additional information on the two?" she asked instead.

"Yeah," the man replied, he sounded almost shameful. "Annette should have been born in or around Las Vegas, Nevada about ten years ago. Julia Ingram is the mother." Something clicked.

"Wait, Annette _REID_? A ten-year-old Annette Reid. You naughty boy! Consider it done."

"Thanks, and Garcia?" he could almost hear the mirth the other woman must be feeling, even through the phone.

"Anything, Pumpkin." she promised easily. Buoyed by the juicy tidbit.

"Not a word to anyone! I should be back before they miss me, but either way I want to be the one they hear it from."

"Of course." Good, now he just had to convince himself Annette wasn't the anti-Christ.

PHOENIX, ARIZONA

"Dr. Reid," the grandmotherly woman in the Social Services offices looked flattered and a little confused to see the young doctor in her office. "I was under the impression that no one was able to contact you."

"Yeah. I received a call late last night, or early this morning from a very persistent little girl." Spencer told the matron hoping he hadn't gotten his daughter in trouble. "You're sure she's my daughter?" he asked, unable to stop himself. It wasn't everyday FBI agents were informed that they had produced progeny.

"Oh once you meet her I doubt you'll think otherwise," the woman said, nodding sagely. "I can see the family resemblance already"

"Can I meet her now? I have ten years to make up for," Reid asked, too nervous to realize he had made an almost joke.

"Certainly. Here's the address. Ask for Eileen," The local director handed Reid a small slip of paper with an address, phone number, and name on it.

"Thank you. I'd like to take her home as soon as possible."

"As son as the paperwork clears," the woman assured him with a soft smile. It was about time he's seen something positive in Social Services, too often he only saw the negative.

The address Reid had been given was just around the corner and he was slightly familiar with Phoenix having worked a case there a few years back. Knocking on the door Reid was greeted by the sounds of running feet, yelling, and crying. All negative signs. A moment later the door swung open, held by a woman in her thirties with lank, blond hair and a tired expression.

"Yes?" She asked, taking in his professional appearance and apparent youth. "I'm sorry, were we expecting you?" Just then a resounding crash echoed through the hall and all the running suddenly stopped. "What did y'all break this time?" The woman hollered back into the house. The question held no threat or anger, just tired acceptance that life would always be that way.

"Jeremy did it!" five young voices answered.

"I'm sorry," the woman said to Reid. "There's fourteen kids here, half of them rowdy boys. Come in, come in." Stepping inside Reid saw that the house was comfortable but didn't have a lot of ornament. True to tell there was a mirror that had been knocked off the wall near a bathroom and a little boy being treated for minor cuts buy a gruff looking older man. "Oh Jeremy," the man said shaking his head even as he sanitized and bandaged the wounds. Reid was pleased to see that while none of those he could see were dressed particularly well, all wore clothes that fit and didn't look worn. The visible children also seemed to be happy, healthy, and well fed. Such a pleasant change.

"Oh, who did you say you were?" the woman asked as if suddenly realizing she had invited a stranger into a building full of children.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI." he displayed his credentials the way most would flash a driver's license.

"FBI?" The woman asked sounding more puzzled than nervous. "Why is the FBI here?"

"I'm not here with the FBI, actually." Spencer confessed, looking down. "I'm actually here to meet Annette Reid."

"Why do you want to talk to Annette?" the woman asked still in suspicious-mother-hen mode.

Reid took a deep breath. He didn't want to explain the details but the woman wasn't going to leave him alone with a ten-year-old girl. "I've just been notified that Annette is my daughter. And if she wants to come with me, I'd like to take her home to DC as soon as possible." Spencer told the matron, who was searching his face as if looking for some detail she recognized. Then she smiled.

"Of course, Dr. Reid. Wait here, I'll get her."

Three minutes later Reid was seated next to Annette on the other side of a table from the woman who ran the group home. There was a stack of paperwork in front of him and Reid's hand was flying across the pages leaving neat lines of information behind while both Mrs. Johnston and Annette watched him in awe. He could easily turn an hour's worth of forms into ten minute's work. All that FBI practice.

"Wow," Annette breathed, awestruck. "You write really fast. Mommy told me you were smart but I didn't know you could write that fast. How many words per minute do you think it is?" It was amazing how similar he was to the girl beside him. Her hair was as dark as Julia's had been, but the texture was the matched his own. Her eyes were the exact same shade and she also shared his prominent bone structure. Annette was tall and thin for her age and had already shown she was prone to rambling when nervous.

"I never timed it, besides, speed isn't as important as legibility, Annette." Annette? It sounded weird on his tongue, maybe he wasn't used to the name, but he was always meeting new people with unfamiliar names and had no problem with them. Maybe it was more the realization that she wasn't just some kid. She was his kid. His daughter. And he already knew she was going to give him grief later in life. "Do you have a nickname?"

"I answer to Annie. But only if I like you," she smiled revealing wicked-looking braces and the deepest dimples he had ever seen.

"Ok, then Annie." he said having filled out the last form. "Have you ever been to Virginia?"

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**I'm not normally the type to beg for reviews, but since the month of April I have posted seven times (one-shots and chapters to existing stories) gotten close to 20 favorites or alerts and 1 review. One review which was decidedly unhelpful. So please, let me know what you think. All oppinions welcome!**


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